My Kingdom For
by TIBryant
Summary: The life of a royal isn't all that it's made out to be, especially when secrets begin to come out after the death of the King. AU. Marceline/Bubblegum, Gumball/Marshall Lee
1. My kingdom for a friend

**My Kingdom for...**  
An **Adventure Time** fanfiction by **TIBryant**.  
**Summary**: The life of a royal isn't all that it's made out to be, especially when secrets begin to come out after the death of the King.  
**Alternative universe setting**.  
**Pairings**: Marceline/Bubblegum, Gumball/Marshal Lee  
**Notes**;

This story is set in an alternative universe. Gumball and Bubblegum are not candy people and Marceline and Marshall Lee are not vampires.

This is a Work in Progress. I usually don't post a story before I have all of the chapters written, but I need a little bit of inspiration for this one and I'm hoping posting it can inspire me.

**Chapter 1; My kingdom for... a friend**

Princess Bonnibel had been given the nickname "Bubblegum" when she was just a child. Her mother had thought her adorable, with her stringy hair that was so strawberry blonde it was nearly pink, and had started calling her the name due to her bubbly personality.

It wasn't long before the whole castle was referring to her as Princess Bubblegum in jest, although during serious moments they would of course call her by her real name. Still, the little girl enjoyed the nickname and it made her smile whenever one of her staff would call her such with a large smile on their faces.

The Princess was an adventurous type and loved to pull pranks on the people around her. She was never really one to stay inside and learn lessons about how to be proper, which drove her parents crazy, but she'd never really minded at the time.

She spent most of her time outside, exploring the garden and trying to learn anything and everything she could about all of the things in it. She had a thirst for knowledge that was insatiable.

She was only about five when she'd started mixing various plants and liquids, studying their reactions with one another.

But she wouldn't dare tell her parents, who wanted nothing more than for their little girl to grow up and marry some prince so that their kingdom could become stronger. They didn't care for a daughter who wanted to learn, no matter how much they loved her.

It was on the day of Bonnibel's seventh birthday that she met the one person who would come to care most about her appetite for knowledge. And while she wished it could be because her nearly lifelong friend was a guest at the party, in actuality the truth was a bit more painful.

She'd been showered with gifts and had politely accepted each of them, even though they weren't exactly her thing. Dresses made from fine silk and hats that probably weighed more than she did. Only one gift amongst them was worth her while and that had been given to her the night before – a set of tools used by magicians to create potions, though where the person giving it had found such a thing was beyond her ability to comprehend, as magicians were a rare bunch and many believed they did not even exist.

After the party was over her father, Leimon, pulled her aside before her nightly bath and informed her, "I have just one more gift for you, my darling."

"What is it, father?" She inquired, excitement running through her. Certainly a gift he couldn't give in front of anyone else had to be thrilling?

And it had been, though not in the way she'd been expecting.

The girl was only about two years her senior and had the palest skin that Bonnibel had ever seen, beneath layers of long black hair that twisted up properly into the buns that the maids usually wore. The Princess couldn't remember seeing her around the castle before, but later she would come to learn that it was because she'd only just been 'broken in'.

"She'll be your own personal servant," Leimon had informed, although what he should have said was _slave_. Because although the palace staff was treated well (for the most part), they were still kept ultimately against their will and were not allowed to leave. "She'll be here to get you anything you need and do anything you want her to do."

The pinkish haired child had been heartbroken. She'd wanted more gifts like her potions set… not a person forced to do her bidding. The castle staff, though friendly, was extremely boring and no doubt this girl would be the same.

Then he'd left and the girl had just stood there, looking politely at the floor, her form stiff with what appeared to be pain and her expression broken.

After a long silence had passed, Bonnibel had finally mumbled, "What's your name?"

"Marceline," The girl had replied automatically, her voice hoarse.

Hoarse from screaming, as the Princess would later find out.

As it turned out, however, Marceline was anything but boring.

After the first week or so the pale girl had become more relaxed around the little Princess, who she'd found was kind and gentle. In mere months they'd begun to consider each other friends and it wasn't long at all before Bonnibel was inviting her servant out to play with her, instead of letting her watch from the sidelines.

Marceline liked music and the color red. She hated wearing her hair up in buns and preferred to let the long locks roam free, like the Princess herself. Often times during the night, after they'd retired for 'bed', the two girls would let down their hair and dance around, singing to themselves.

The dark-haired girl never spoke of her life before the palace and Bonnibel never thought to ask. She was young and didn't think about things like the past, instead focusing on the present and living her life as it came. Even as they grew older, though, the Princess never brought it up, eventually deciding that if her best friend wanted to talk about such things, she would mention them herself.

Growing up was a pain, however. By the time she was fourteen she'd been pulled away from her potion sets (which she had become very clever with, able to create concoctions beyond her wildest imagination) to attend balls and go on dinner dates with different Princes. And as always, faithful Marceline was at her side, making silly faces behind the heads of others and making her strawberry blonde friend burst into giggles.

By the time she was fifteen, however, her parents had grown tired of her playfulness and sat her down to a serious talk about the kingdom and its needs. They spent hours explaining how she was needed to make an alliance with another land, so that they could prosper from trading routes and the boost in economy. The entire situation struck her deep and her care-free attitude gave way to a seriousness that swept away any sort of innocent youth she had left.

From there she began to become entranced in politics, trying to choose the best kingdom to marry into and discussing with her parents what route would be the best to take. And while Marceline was always there, standing in the background, they'd begun to grow apart and the dark-haired girl had once again become just a trusted servant, instead of a trusted friend.

And now, eighteen years old, Bonnibel found herself swept up into the political world of being a Princess, about to take flight into a new world.

She was to be married.

"Your Highness, it's time to awaken."

As always, Marceline was up early and had a warm cup of tea at the Princess' bed side as she roused her from her sleep. And as always, Bonnibel gave an annoyed huff and rolled over, throwing a pillow over her head.

The maid let out an annoyed noise and reached down, grabbing a handful of the blankets that covered the strawberry blonde haired girl. With one loud yell of, '_Wake up!'_, she pulled the heavy comforter off and nearly pulled the other completely from the bed.

"Marceline!" Her master cried in alarm, sitting up and grabbing handfuls of her long hair to push out of her face. "That was rude!"

"Well then maybe you should get up when I'm all, 'oh, it's time to wake up, your Highness'," The black haired young woman replied, lifting one fine eyebrow up above the other. "Now, do I have to pour this tea all over you, or are you gonna drink it before it gets cold?"

With a huff of frustration, the Princess grabbed the glass and brought it to her lips, trying to take a sip. She hadn't expected the heat, however, and as soon as it touched her delicate skin she jerked back in surprise, spilling a bit onto her pale pink nightgown.

"Honestly…" Marceline sighed, grabbing a small towel off of the tray – she'd placed it on there as if she'd expected this to happen – and dropping to her knees. The strawberry blonde watched with flushed cheeks as the dark-haired woman began to dab at her night dress with a sour expression. After a few moments, the nearly-pink haired girl mimicked the expression before turning her face away. When she was finished, the maid stood and tossed the rag back onto the tray. "Today you've got a meeting with that brat, so like, dress up or whatever."

"Marceline, really, such language is unbecoming of a royal servant!" Bonnibel cried, sipping at her tea (which had cooled down enough by this point) before standing up. "You sound like a peasant."

"I _was _once, your _Highness_," The dark-haired woman reminded, rather coldly, as her companion crossed the room and opened up her closet.

"Well, you're not anymore," her master replied as she slipped inside and tried to find a proper outfit to wear. "And don't refer to him as _the brat_. Aiden is the _crowned prince _of the Flame kingdom and my future husband, which makes him _your _future master. So I think you should try to show a little bit more respect."

"Whatever," The maid muttered as she followed the strawberry blonde Princess into the closet and watched as she eyed the rows of clothing that nearly suffocated her. Honestly, the pale-skinned woman couldn't imagine wanting to dress in much more than the dark ankle-length dress and white apron that she was given to wear. Some of her companion's outfits were just ridiculous! "After that, your mother wants to see you about that party she's planning."

"Oh, of course! I'd forgotten all about that. How silly of me," The shorter woman breathed as she picked out a simple dress with a deep violet fitted bodice with a slightly lighter ankle-length skirt and sleeves to match. "Marceline, grab my brush, please. I think I'll do a simple hair style, today."

"Yes, your Highness," Marceline sighed, walking across the room and beginning to prep the setup that the royal girl had in front of her large mirror.

When she had first become the Princess' personal servant, she hadn't known much about styling hair or putting together outfits. She'd been given quick training but really, it was all lost on her by the time she was actually shoved into the 'field'. When she was younger, the other maids had helped her out, but after years of practice she had come to known the ins and outs of getting her majesty into her form-fitting dresses and putting her hair into elaborate styles.

Oh, if only her family could see her now… she'd imagine they would laugh at the thought of her prissying up a Princess for a royal date.

After what felt like hours of prep work (and the satisfaction of putting a corset on her 'friend'), Bonnibel was leading her down the hall and to the dining room, where her mother was seated. The girl's father had died only days ago, leaving a distraught wife who was trying to hold everything together.

"My darling! Good morning. My, you look as beautiful as always!" Queen Honey informed with a sad smile as her daughter leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "I heard you're meeting with His Highness Aiden today, yes?"

As she was instructed to do from an early age, Marceline slipped from the room to leave the two women together. Sleep and meal times were the only points during the day that she had to herself and she spent them as well as she could, feasting on what measly scraps the servants were given before returning to her broken little bedroom.

Today all that was left out for them were small dinner rolls left over from the night before and she grabbed only one, knowing that she was one the first to eat and that there probably wasn't enough for everybody. She'd never grab more then she needed and often times she found herself grabbing less, just to make sure some of the younger, slower servants ate. (Such was the case of most of the other staff here as well, since they all had some sort of unspoken agreement.)

Each member of the help was given their own tiny room, barely big enough for a bed and a bar to hang their work clothes on. Her own was one of the smallest, which she had traded long ago with a little boy so that he had a bit more space, seeing as he struggled with being confined.

Taking a seat on the bed, the dark-haired girl leaned back against the wall and lifted her eyes to the ceiling as she pulled small pieces from the roll and ate them slowly, hoping the relaxed speed would fill her stomach faster.

As usual, her alone time was spent with her mind drifting and her lips humming silent tunes. Even after eleven years of being contained in these walls, her love of music hadn't left and she made sure to take time out at least once a day to sing (or at the very least, hum).

She tried to let the lyrics come to her, but instead they began to drift away and she felt her heart begin to break a little bit at a time.

No! She hadn't wanted to think about this… but the thoughts came anyway and she let herself curl up on the bed, fighting to keep the tears away.

His birthday… today was his birthday. He would be what, nineteen now? She tried to imagine what he would look like but the picture just wouldn't come like it used to… no, he would be much different from the tiny little eight year old that he'd been when she'd been captured.

Captured… did he even know? Or did he just think she had abandoned him? Her heart felt like it would rip in two at the very thought. No, he knew her better than that… He'd had faith in her back then and she could only hope that it hadn't disappeared after all those years.

Marshall Lee… her tiny little brother with that cute baby face, all grown up now and doing glob only knows what. Had he made a life for himself? Gotten a job somewhere and maybe found someone to love him? Or was he still living on the streets, starving and weak, like the two of them had been all those years ago?

Silently, Marceline let herself cry for some time, before she managed to calm herself down and clean herself up.

There was no point in crying about it anymore, since there was no way she was ever going to see her brother again.

No matter how much she wanted to.

It wasn't Aiden that Bonnibel ended up meeting with, but instead his father, a man that everyone usually just referred to as the Fire King. He was a tall man with flaming red hair and broad shoulders, a cold expression painting his squared face at all times.

The man gave her a nod as she took a seat, Marceline moving to stand near the entrance of the room, her expression blank and her eyes distant.

"Your Highness," The Fire King greeted across the table, not bothering to touch his tea. "My son tells me of your beauty, but his words do not do you justice. I am sorry to hear of your loss."

"You flatter me, my lord," She replied with a polite smile. "My father's death has been an emotional tragedy, but I shall not let his departure get in the way of our agreements."

"I must tell you, I do not discuss matters in front of _slaves_," He informed, shooting a distasteful look toward Marceline, who returned it with a disgusted glare.

"Marceline is a friend," Bonnibel assured, sending the dark-haired girl a stern look. (Inwardly, Marceline wanted to say, 'You haven't treated me like one in years', but she didn't bother to.)

"In my kingdom we don't make _friends _with slaves," The Fire King told her rather sternly. "And we don't plan on starting."

"All the same, in my kingdom we do," The Princess insisted, a frown crossing her features. "And Marceline will be joining me when I come to live in your kingdom, so whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of her."

The man's fiery eyebrows went up for a moment, before he bellowed out a round of sharp laughter that made the strawberry blonde shrink back with a deep frown. After a moment it died down and he hit himself on the chest, as if trying to clear his lungs. "Oh, my son didn't tell me you had a sense of humor!" He cried, a grin on his squared face. "Of course she won't be joining you, your Highness. We will accept you and you alone, no more and no less."

Bonnibel's eyes went wide and a clash of emotions spread over her face. Shock, confusion, sadness, and then finally anger.

There was no _way _she was leaving her life-long friend behind! Marceline had been there through thick and thin for eleven _years_, she wasn't going to throw that all behind just because some fiery old man told her to!

But then thoughts went through her head and she remembered the politics behind the situation. The Flame Kingdom was rich in both farmland and culture… they would be a huge benefit to have in the royal court.

Was she really willing to throw that all away just for one maid?

"If you say so, your Majesty," The Princess finally mumbled, letting her eyes lower with a sour expression.

She hadn't expected the sudden shriek of, "Are you _serious_!?" That filled the air and her nearly violet blue eyes snapped up in alarm, looking at the angry face of Marceline. "Eleven years of friendship and all you have to say is, _if you say so_!?" The pale-skinned girl continued, the hurt evident in her honey-colored eyes. "You're really going to throw away everything we've had together… just like that!? Do you just not like me anymore!?"

"Marcy-" Bonnibel began in alarm, her expression completely dumbstruck.

"NO!" The dark-haired girl snapped, her fists clenched at her sides. "No, you don't get to call me that anymore! You don't get to _talk _to me anymore! Find yourself a different servant, _Princess_, because I'm DONE!"

And with that, she turned and stormed from the room, not caring about the repercussions of her actions. No amounts of beating and torture would ever match up to the heart break she had just felt and if her outburst meant she never had to see the strawberry-blonde Princess again, it would be too soon.

**Note**: 'Aiden' is the name I've given to Flame Prince, as he does not have a cannon first name.


	2. My kingdom for my freedom

**My Kingdom for...**  
An **Adventure Time** fanfiction by **TIBryant**.  
**Summary**: The life of a royal isn't all that it's made out to be, especially when secrets begin to come out after the death of the King.  
**Alternative universe setting**.  
**Pairings**: Marceline/Bubblegum, Gumball/Marshal Lee  
**Notes**;

This story is set in an alternative universe. Gumball and Bubblegum are not candy people and Marceline and Marshall Lee are not vampires.

This is a Work in Progress. I usually don't post a story before I have all of the chapters written, but I need a little bit of inspiration for this one and I'm hoping posting it can inspire me.

**Chapter 1; My kingdom for... my freedom**

Prince Burton had been given the nickname 'Gumball' around the same time that his younger sister had acquired the title 'Bubblegum'. While her personality had, as a child, been bubbly and sweet, his own had been kind but still hardened by the weight on his shoulders.

At some point, his sister had taken to calling him 'Bubba', which she'd learned was some sort of term children often used for their brothers. He'd detested the name at first, thinking it too _common_, but after a while it had become a heart-felt thing between them and he'd begun to think of it as his real name.

He'd grown up learning everything about running a kingdom, studying all of the books and meeting with all of the right people. Not a single moment was spent for himself, his life dedicated to the people of his land and doing what was best for them.

There were many laws that he did not agree with and he had known from a young age that as soon as his father passed, he would see fit to change things.

But he had not expected the man to leave this world so soon.

Only twenty two, the Prince was just beginning to step into the world of politics and make a name for himself… he wasn't yet ready for the hardships that ruling over his land would ensue yet here he was, days from being crowned the new king.

The whole thing was really beginning to be too much but what choice did he have but to take the job? It wasn't as if his little sister could rule the kingdom – she was, after all, a woman – and his mother wasn't able to either, so as the crowned Prince and only son of King Leimon, he was the only one fit to do so.

(There were, of course, distant cousins that would be willing to take the job, but he wasn't about to let the fate of his people fall into the hands of someone he didn't know or trust.)

His mother was busying herself with making plans for his sister's upcoming 'bachelorette' party, which really was a fancy way of demanding gifts from the nearby nobles. Bonnibel didn't actually have any friends (save for that ever-present maid of hers) and if he knew his sister as well as he did, she wouldn't care for any of the gifts that were brought, anyway.

Then again, the girl had changed over the past few years.

With a sour expression, Bubba stared out the window in the sitting room as he awaited the Queen's arrival. She had requested his audience in order to 'show him something', but was running fashionably late. Not that he minded terribly… he was always happy to have some time to think.

Sparing a glance down at his form, the Prince made sure his appearance was fitting for a meeting with his mother. A fitted violet waistcoat over a pale pink button up with a matching ruffled cravat on the front. His trousers were deep magenta and made his nearly violet eyes stand out against his strawberry blonde hair. He looked like royalty, which was as it should be.

He didn't have much more time to think to himself because it seemed like only moments later the door was opening and two guards bowed to him, before stepping out of the way. His mother appeared in all of her red-haired glory, smiling at him almost sadly as she took in his appearance.

"My darling Burton," She addressed with heartbreak evident in her voice, crossing the room and reaching out to touch his face. "So much like your father…"

"Mother, really," He sighed, shooing her hands off of him. "You can call me Bubba. It wouldn't hurt you."

The woman made an expression of distaste, before she began to motion him toward the door. "Come, come! I have something of most importance to show you."

With a dry throat, the Prince followed his red-haired mother from the room, noting that her arms had grown thinner. Had she been eating properly? It was always impossible to tell with those corsets that women were always forcing themselves into. He couldn't imagine trying to be female and had always had respect for his mother and sister, seeing how much they had to go through just to be considered a little bit less than dirt. (Even so, all they were now to most of the kingdom were bearers of royal sons. He'd decided long ago that this way of thinking would be one of the first to go when he took over.)

She lead him through the winding palace hallways (he swore sometimes that the only people who knew the entire map of the castle were the staff) and up to where the quarters were. Not far from Bubba's own room was his father's chamber where he'd slept alone before his sudden death.

"Mother?" The strawberry blonde inquired, sending her a deep frown. No one was allowed in the man's chambers, the servants hadn't even been allowed to clean the place yet.

"Pretty soon, this room will belong to you," Queen Honey informed him with a sad, but gentle smile. "And so, I want you to learn it well, including all of its secrets."

She offered nothing more as she pulled a key out from between her breasts and slipped it into the lock on the door. It clicked open only moments later and the doors opened. The woman didn't dare spare a glance inside, immediately turning her back.

The Prince found himself frowning, his heart in his throat. His eyes drifted through the open door and he was entirely surprised to find a large room with golden drapery around the windows and bed. As he slipped inside his mother closed the door and he was left feeling a little robbed.

There was absolutely nothing unusual about this room, save for the seriously bad choice of decoration.

Still, the woman seemed insistent on him exploring the entirety of it and so he began to circle, taking in all of his father's personal possessions – or rather, the serious lack of them.

There were no paintings lining the walls of family, no trinkets from travels to afar. The only things in the room were furniture and even that was plain and boring, save for the blinding yellows and golds that adorned them.

Just when he thought that the only secret about the room was that he'd have to have a serious redecorator redo the entire place, he slipped over to the closet and pulled it open.

A heavy breath of surprise left not only him, but the form curled up against the back wall.

Rows of expensive clothing lined both sides, but along the back was a row of bars and a small room with a tiny bed that could perhaps fit a child but was by far too small for the person cowering in it. Through the dark, Bubba could only make out a head of messy dark hair and far too thin limbs.

After the intimal shock had worn off he swallowed down the lump in his throat and quickly grabbed a candle from one of the dressers near the door. It took him a moment to light it, his fingers shaking, but once he had he slowly began to creep toward the back of the chamber.

The figure on the bed tried its best to shy away from him and as he got closer, he could make out pale skin and young features. Upon closer inspection it appeared to be a boy, no older then sixteen, with eyes so clear blue they almost looked white. The boy – this _child _– was thinner than even the thinnest of servants, as if he hadn't eaten in months. He tried to cower away from the Prince, wrapping his arms around his bony knees and peering up through his chin-length ebony hair.

"It's okay," Bubba assured gently, trying not to let his heartbreak show in his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

What was his father doing, keeping a young boy captive in the back of his closet? And had his mother known about this…? She had insisted he find out all of the _secrets _about his father's old room, so was she in on the whole thing? What was it all about, anyways? Why have a child captive in your closet? The whole thing just didn't make any sense to him.

He came upon the doors and peered in at the boy, who he could easily reach out and touch. But he didn't dare, knowing that his presence was already unsetting the other enough.

"Where is the key?" The Prince inquired, speaking as softly as he could manage. The child eyed him for a few seconds, before his eyes darted over to a shelf on Bubba's right, where a box was pushed into the corner. The strawberry blonde gave him one last glance before he moved over to the box and opened it, finding a single, silver key inside.

The small form jerked even farther away as he moved to open the door and immediately the Prince held up his hands to show he meant no harm. He pulled the unlocked cage door toward himself and slipped into the entranceway, hoping to block it if the boy tried to run.

But he didn't. Instead, the child curled even further from him, letting out a serious of whimpers. It was only then that Bubba saw the fading bruises that lined the boy's arms and legs, as well as the chains that tied his wrists together.

"Good lord…" Bubba choked, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. He bit them down and straightened his shoulders, slowly approaching the boy and taking a seat beside him on the bed. "Can you tell me your name…?"

A quick shake of the head before the boy buried his face into his knees and shook.

The Prince stiffened his shoulders and held his head up high, before addressing, "How impolite of me! I've asked you your name without properly introducing myself." The dark-haired form glanced up at him through his stringy hair, nervously, as the strawberry blonde stood up, nearly towering over him. The boy actually flinched for a moment, only to raise his head in surprise as the noble man gave a gentlemanly bow of respect. "My name is Prince Burton. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir…?"

Clear blue eyes stared up at him in complete awe for what seemed like ages, before the child suddenly realized and quickly turned his eyes downward, lowering his head. It seemed the Prince's display was enough to get him to crack, however, because he let out the meekest whisper of, "Marshall Lee… my name is Marshall Lee…"

Bubba returned to his seat beside the boy and slowly eyed the chains on the child's wrists. "How old are you, Marshall Lee?" He inquired, trying to piece things together. How long had this boy been in his father's closet and what was the purpose behind it? He couldn't recall any rivaling nations having princes around this child's age, nor anyone his father could have been around with the other's name.

"I don't know," The other admitted, gripping at what was left of his bottoms tightly in scratched hands. "I don't know… what day it is or even what year…"

A numb feeling washed over the Prince momentarily, pushing away the disgust and confusion. Gently, he revealed the date to the young boy, thinking that there was no way the form beside him was any older then sixteen, by the looks of him.

As soon as the numbers left his lips, those blue eyes turned to look at him in surprise and confusion. "Is that really the date…?" He whispered, sounding almost heartbroken. Upon Bubba's silent nod, his eyes drifted downwards. "Then I'm… nineteen, now. It's my birthday."

Bubba could feel his heart breaking in his chest, pushing past the walls he'd put up. Every bit of reason went out the window as he stood and practically stormed from the closet, over to the bedroom's entrance.

His mother was thankfully still in position as he threw the double doors open and reached out, grabbing her arm. She let out a surprised gasp as her eldest child dragged her into her late husband's room and toward the closet, where he pointed to the cage in the back – still lit by the candle he had placed beside the small bed.

"Explain this!" The Prince demanded, his voice cracking, though he didn't dare show the deep ache he felt for the child – no, not a child, but a young man – staring at him with a shell-shocked expression. "You must have known, right?! So tell me why!"

"B-Burton… My son…" Honey whispered, trying to turn her gaze from the form before her.

"No!" He snapped, pushing her the smallest bit toward the closet's back wall once more, turning her attention back to Marshall Lee. "You look at him and you explain to me how you didn't do anything! Did you know the whole time?!"

"I will speak to you, but not in front of him!" The woman retorted, forcefully pulling her arm from his reach. She spared the dark-haired boy one last glance before turning toward her son and fixing him with a hard stare. Bubba returned it coldly, but none the less he followed her from the closet and did not reach to stop her as she pushed the doors closed.

"I apologize for my outburst, mother," Bubba stated and he could tell by her expression that she knew he was lying. "But I do believe an explanation is in order."

The woman took in a deep breath, moving over to a set of chairs by the balcony doors and taking a seat. As her eldest child joined her, she took in a deep breath, her hand over her heart. After a moment she let it out with a heavy sigh. "Your father dabbled in some… things that I did not condone," She admitted, glumly. "But he was a powerful man, Burton. Had I thought that I could, I would have had that boy released years ago."

"_Years _ago?" The Prince wheezed, gripping the edges of his chair's arm rests and staring at the floor as the very thought filled his mind. That boy had been in there for _years_? No wonder he hadn't known his own age! "How long, mother…?"

"Burton-" She began, but he instantly cut in with an expression that demanded an answer.

"How long!?"

The Queen's lips were straight, her face unreadable… but her eyes said it all. They spoke of fear, of the distress she felt at the very thought of him hating her as soon as she answered. Still, his own expression left no room for debate and eventually she cracked, lowering her eyes. "Eleven years."

Bubba had to grab onto the arm rests once more as he nearly fell to the floor in shock. His eyes begged her for it not to be true, but her downcast ones showed him how very real the situation was.

His previously breaking heart burst into pieces and spilled out of his chest, across his lap and onto the ground. He lifted his hands and stared down at them, feeling – for the first time in his life – extremely unclean.

He'd spend the last eleven years in the lap of luxury, being pampered and treated like… well, _royalty, _by hundreds of servants and _slaves_. He'd had his hair washed for him, his clothes washed for him, and once even his body washed for him (though that was only when he'd been injured and unable to wash it himself). He'd been pampered, primed, and pressed…

And this boy, this _child _(even if he wasn't literally one), had been locked in the back of a _closet_. All this time, chained back there… with god only knew what being done to him.

"This is unacceptable," The Prince stated firmly, once he'd gathered his wits about him once more. "This boy will be released immediately! I will see to it that he is properly nursed back to health and then he will be returned to his home."

"I don't think that is wise, my son," Honey cut in and his venomous glare made her cringe back into her seat. "You see, he's no ordinary boy…"

"Oh _god_, what now?" Bubba moaned in a way very unbecoming of a prince, but at that moment he couldn't have cared less. He leaned back in his chair and tried to prepare himself for what was to come.

His mother looked like she'd learned of his father's death all over again. Distraught and destroyed, she lowered her eyes toward her lap, where her hands were folded and gripping at her dress tightly. "He's… a street rat," She explained. "He simply doesn't have a home." It seemed as if she had more to say, but she didn't go on and he didn't feel like pushing.

"Then I'll figure something out," The strawberry blonde informed, inwardly relieved that it was no more than what she'd said. He moved to stand and approached the closet once more, his shoulders stiff. "Call for a team of staff. We have a lot of work to do."

He'd told the staff to meet him in his room as to not overwhelm the tiny boy in the back of the closet. They all nodded their heads in confused agreement, before scurrying off to gather the things he'd requested. The Prince had then gathered up his reasoning once more and returned to the dark space to retrieve his father's prisoner.

Marshall Lee hadn't thrown a fit when he asked him to leave, like he'd expected. Instead, the boy had only bowed his head and stood, perhaps assuming that Bubba was no better than his father.

When they reached the bedroom door, however, the dark-haired boy's breathing became confused and heavy. He didn't dare speak out, but the strawberry blonde laid a gentle hand on his back none the less.

"You've never left this room, have you?" The Prince asked and the young man shook his head. In the sun-lit light of the room, his strained (no doubt from the light) blue eyes were nearly white. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

With a skeptical expression, Marshall nodded. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but held his tongue with a soft bite to his lower lip.

Carefully, Bubba pushed open the bedroom doors and slipped out them, still keeping a hand on Marshall's back, trying to detour him from running away. It wasn't that he didn't want the boy to have his freedom, he was simply worried that the child (_no, he's not a child_, he had to remind himself) would become lost and even more frightened then he already was.

The walk to the Prince's bedroom was thankfully very short, but he hadn't planned on running into someone along the way.

"Bubba!"

A girl with a head of waist-length strawberry blonde hair was just stepping out of her own room, her expression one of panic and worry. It switched to a look of surprise, however, as she spotted the (now cowering) dark-haired form beside her elder brother.

"Who is this?" Bonnibel questioned, her expression demanding answers, similar to how his had with their mother.

"Don't worry about it," The elder royal replied, gently pushing Marshall Lee behind himself. "What has you so upset, Bonnie?"

Immediately the young girl's expression became one of worry once more. "Have you seen Marcy?" She questioned in a rush, her eyes pleading with him.

"I'm afraid I haven't," Bubba informed with a frown. Wasn't his sister's personal servant always with her? No wonder she was worried if she couldn't find the girl. "What happened?"

Almost as if she were nervous, Bonnibel began to look around before she leaned in close to her sibling. "She spoke out against me in front of the Fire King." The Prince's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He is furious. I want to find her before the guards do."

"Have you checked her quarters?" He inquired and his sister looked both surprised and dumbstruck.

"I hadn't thought of that," The younger admitted with a sheepish glance.

Giving no more room for conversation, Bubba took Marshall Lee's arm in his hand once more and moved past his sister. "I hope that you find her, Bonnie."

His sister was already halfway down the hall. "Thanks!"

Only a few steps later, the Prince entered his own room and pulled his dark-haired companion beside him, closing the door. Marshall Lee looked numb – the royal could only imagine what was going on in his mind.

He perhaps thought that Bubba was going to do to him what his father had done (he refused to think about exactly what that was), so imagine his surprise when the strawberry blonde took his shoulders and steered him toward the bathroom.

"Miss Mint," The Prince addressed as they entered the large private room and found the servants he had ordered in their rightful places. "I expect the bath is warm?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Pepper Mint, his own personal servant from his childhood, told him with a gentle smile. She was an older woman with coppery red hair that was striped with white in her old age. He had loved her like a grandmother his entire life and even now, she was more like family then help. "Is this the boy?"

"Marshall Lee, this is Pepper Mint, my trusted friend," Bubba informed the confused and awestruck dark-haired boy, who turned to look at him with a worried expression. "She and her team will get you cleaned up and dressed. And oh, of course! How could I have forgotten?" Reaching into his trouser pocket, the pale-haired prince removed the key that had been used to lock the room and slipped it into the cuffs around the boy's wrist.

As they fell away, the small young man stared down at his arms in confusion and awe. The team of servants barely managed to hold back their winces as they saw the bruises and red marks on his skin, where the metal had been.

"From this moment on, Marshall Lee," The Prince addressed, catching the boy's eyes for a moment. "You are a free man. You have every right to leave the castle, should you choose to. However, I think it is best that you let these kind people clean you and allow me to get a good meal in you, before you go. And of course…" His gaze was so intense that he was surprised the other didn't look away. "You are welcome to stay as long as you'd like, as my honored guest."

With that said he left the other in peace, not entirely sure if the young man would be there when he returned.


	3. My kingdom for an escape

**My Kingdom for...**  
An **Adventure Time** fanfiction by **TIBryant**.  
**Summary**: The life of a royal isn't all that it's made out to be, especially when secrets begin to come out after the death of the King.  
**Alternative universe setting**.  
**Pairings**: Marceline/Bubblegum, Gumball/Marshal Lee  
**Notes**;

This story is set in an alternative universe. Gumball and Bubblegum are not candy people and Marceline and Marshall Lee are not vampires.

This is a Work in Progress. I usually don't post a story before I have all of the chapters written, but I need a little bit of inspiration for this one and I'm hoping posting it can inspire me.

**Chapter 3**; My kingdom for… an escape

The shocked faces of the maids as she entered the hallway to their quarters would have perhaps been amusing had it not been for the situation. Even as a child she had not been allowed down here, but at that moment she didn't much care for following the rules.

She _had _to find Marceline.

It took her a few moments to realize that the rooms did not have any specific marker saying who they belonged to, so as quickly as she could she grabbed a young brunette's arm and asked her, "Which room belongs to Marceline!?"

"T-That one over there, your highness!" The girl squeaked and as the Princess quickly let her go and made toward it, she called out, "But she's not in there!"

Opening up the door despite the girl's protest (as she could have easily been covering for the servant in question), Bonnibel was instantly shell shocked at the state of the room.

It was… just so _tiny_. There wasn't even enough room to stand next to the bed before you were hitting the bar where one of Marcy's changes of clothing were hanging. The walls were made of darkened, damp stone and the entire room felt like winter, it was so cold.

"She hasn't been down here, your highness," The same girl from before addressed nervously, her eyes downcast. "Not since earlier today."

Numbly, the strawberry blonde pushed the door closed and turned toward the other girl. Was her room the same way? Did they _all _have rooms like this? She found herself biting down on her bottom lip for a moment, before remembering the situation and gently telling the small servant, "If you see her, please tell her to stay hidden. I fear the guards are looking for her. Let me know as soon as you've seen her, please, and let the others know to do the same."

"Yes ma'am," The girl replied with a quick bow, before she turned and rushed off in another direction to tell the rest of the staff.

Bonnibel all but collapsed against the door, lifting her hands to stare down at them. Her perfectly primed nails with expensive polish and gloves made of the finest silk… her dress that cost probably more then everything in Marceline's room, including the stone walls and wooden door.

Was this really how a servant lived? She couldn't fathom it. Her own room was longer then this hallway, yet all of these people who worked daily to make her life a luxury were forced to live like this.

Feeling ill, the Princess pulled herself away from the door and went back to her search, while silently wishing this all could be much different.

When Bubba returned to his bathroom, he'd half expected to find that Marshall Lee had disappeared into the night. So imagine his surprise when he slipped into his bedroom and Pepper stepped out of the bathroom, holding up a hand.

"Just a moment, your Majesty," She stated, pulling the bathroom door closed behind herself. "He is not yet finished being dressed."

"He's still here?" The Prince inquired, his eyebrows lifting up. "How is he?"

A sad frown crossed the woman's lips and she reached up, gently touching his face. "It was a kind thing you did, releasing him, your majesty. But I'm afraid it isn't valid. He is property of his highness the King and until you take over as King, he will remain as such. When you wear the crown, he will become yours and then you will be able to release him."

The young man couldn't help but think that her change in subject meant the worst. "Miss Mint, please."

With a heavy sigh, Pepper let her hand drop and turned to stare at the door sadly. "Must I say it all aloud, your majesty? I'm sure you can fathom exactly what went on without it being brought to my lips."

The other's chest felt tight. He slowly let out a breath and whispered, "Fair enough," deciding to let it go. If she refused to speak of it, then it was exactly what he had feared; no doubt Marshall's body was worse for the wear and what he had endured in that room was something no living being should ever be put through.

Eventually the doors came open and one of the servants bowed respectfully to him. She then stepped aside, revealing someone who looked nothing like the tiny form that Bubba had seen in the room only hours before.

Marshall Lee looked dashing in his scarlet waistcoat, with a deeper version of the color for his trousers and an over jacket that the staff had no doubt put on him to keep him warm. Beneath it all was a white, high-collared button-up that only just covered a deep, hand-shaped bruise around his throat.

The ensemble made the boy look taller and a bit more his age, though the Prince could still tell how thin he was.

The younger boy did not lift his eyes as he bowed lowly, his body tense. Bubba could only amuse he thought the Prince was merely prettying him up for another round of agony.

"I'm glad to see that you choose not leave," The strawberry blonde informed, inwardly remembering Pepper's words, but choosing not to think about them for the moment. "I would like to get a meal in you at the very least."

"Yes, your majesty," The dark-haired young man replied and the older man could have sworn he heard a bit of bite in the other's voice, but passed it off as his imagination.

"Come," He stated, motioning for his companion to follow before turning and leaving for the dining hall.

Their walk was spent in an awkward silence and the older man felt almost uncomfortable, like he was leading a lamb to be slaughtered. He spared a glance back at Marshall's far too thin face and wondered what on earth could have possessed his father to do such a thing to another living being.

Slavery was wrong, he'd known that since he was a child. But what this boy had been through… that was worse than slavery, that was… he couldn't even begin to find the words. Marshall had been kept imprisoned for eleven _years_, beaten and _used_. Bubba wasn't sure how the boy managed to stay sane all that time.

They entered the dining hall and the older motioned for his companion to take a seat near the head of the table, moving around to sit across from him. He'd had the draperies pulled over the windows (assuming that the bright sun would hurt the child's delicate eyes, as he'd been imprisoned in the dark for so long) and had asked a few of the cooks to prepare a meal to fill up the boy's small stomach. (Not too big of one, though, because that would make him ill.)

He briefly considered the fact that he hadn't asked Marshall what his favorite foods were, but then remembered that the young man probably hadn't had a decent meal in eleven years, so it was likely he didn't even known.

A young man with dark blonde hair served the pale boy a bowl of cabbage soup. As he left, Marshall stared down at the food with an unreadable expression, almost like he was waiting to be given permission to eat.

With his stomach in knots, Bubba motioned to the food and smiled, "Go on, then, Marshall Lee. Please, enjoy!"

Slowly, Marshall Lee picked up the provided spoon and ate, his eyes downcast as he did so. He took no more than a few bites before placing the spoon down.

The Prince's smile slowly crawled into a frown. "Not to your liking?"

"Will all due respect, your majesty," The other man mumbled, his shoulders tense, like he was waiting for the punishment to come. "I understand that you are caring for me in your father's absence, but when he returns he will not be pleased with these actions."

A moment of silence passed between them as the strawberry blonde let the other boy's words soak into him, his eyebrows high on his forehead. He realized, then, that no one had been in his father's room since his death, thus no one had been around to inform Marshall of the man's passing.

"I'm afraid I've neglected to inform you," He hummed, bowing his head in apology. "How careless of me. My father passed away only days ago, Marshall Lee. He will not be returning."

To the Prince's surprise, the other man's pale blue eyes shot up suddenly, wide with confusion and perhaps a bit of hope. "He's… he's dead?" He breathed in what appeared to be awe, almost seeming to plead with his companion.

"He is," Bubba assured, a gentle smile crossing his features. It was probably the first good news the other had heard in years and he was glad to be the one delivering it.

What he didn't expect was for Marshall Lee to pull his lips back and bare his teeth (no, they were _fangs_), letting out a cat-like hiss. The Prince gasped in alarm as the whites of the boy's eyes suddenly darkened to black and his clear irises turned deep red. The dark-haired young man sprang from his seat and flew upward suddenly, seeming to almost _float _before he pushed himself against one of the draperies and let out another hiss.

"M-Marshall Lee!" The startled Prince gasped, stumbling from his own seat in alarm. The guards outside of the room must have heard the commotion, because they came thundering in, looking all around.

They didn't spot the boy until a few moments later when Marshall's body began to twist and grow, his skin growing darker and giving way to short fur. Long wings sprouted from his back and his eyes became large and red as his face and body became bat-like, nearly the size of the dining table.

As Bubba stared up at him, completely shell-shocked by everything that went on, he was vaguely aware as a dark-haired form seemed to literally _appear _from out of nowhere, her eyes wide in alarm.

"Marshall!" Marceline cried, seeming to catch the bat's attention.

The guards seemed to gather themselves moments later and one of them aimed carefully, before releasing a long spear. It pierced through the giant bat's right shoulder and the creature let out a shriek of alarm, before it began to coil itself around, as if trying to curl up. It ended up getting twisted in the draperies and everyone watched, stunned, as it fell and it's body shrank once more.

Pretty soon the group stood there, silently staring at the pile of silken fabric laying on the floor, before finally Marceline burst forward, shoving past the guards.

"Marshall!" She cried, panic evident in her cracking voice as she tried to dig through the giant mass of curtains to find the dark-haired young man. Bubba, after a moment, moved over to join her, taking silent note of the blood-stained spear that had fallen nearby.

Eventually they managed to uncover the dark-haired boy, who was gripping at his blood-soaked right shoulder, his breath coming quickly as if he were a frightened mouse. His clear blue eyes darted around the room in a state of panic, completely clouded and not really seeing much.

"He needs a medic!" The Prince cried to the guards, who in turn stared at him with confused, dumb-struck expressions.

"Marshall, can you hear me?" Marceline begged, reaching out to touch the boy's face and frowning as he cringed away from her. There were tears forming in her honey-colored eyes, but she quickly reached up and brushed them away. "It's me! It's Marcy!"

"Marceline," Bubba called and she lifted her eyes to him, an unreadable expression on her pale face. "I don't think he knows what's going on right now. The best thing we can do is let the doctor take care of him."

Turning, the dark-haired woman saw the two members of the medical staff approaching with two matching faces of confusion.

"I think you and I need to discuss some things," The Prince went on and she turned back toward him, her lips tight. He held out his hand to her, his expression gentle. "Come. We can do nothing for him, here."

Marceline looked down to her brother. There was no mistaking who he was… despite years since their last time together, the boy's face was still recognizable, even in the early stages of adulthood. She couldn't fathom leaving him again, not after all of those years of wondering if he was even alive… the very thought made her chest feel tight.

But Prince Burton was kind and he had obviously taken care of Marshall so far. They'd been having some sort of dinner when she'd heard the boy's name and entered, hidden from view. Then the Prince had mentioned his father's death and her brother had completely lost it.

No doubt the strawberry blonde haired man before her would not let any harm befall her sibling.

With a straight face, the maid took the man's hand and let him pull her to her feet, just as another form with a head of hair matching the other's entered the room.

"Marceline!" Bonnibel cried in what appeared to be relief, before she took in the scene and gasped in confusion. "What on earth-?"

"I will explain later, Bonnie," Bubba informed, gently pulling Marceline and his sister both (after taking her hand along the way) from the room. The dark-haired woman spared a glance back, seeing the medics and her brother, who seemed to have lost consciousness.

Bubba remained silent as he paced back and forth for a few moments, tension obvious in his shoulders. Bonnibel was eyeing Marceline nervously with a concerned expression, but the dark-haired woman was too busy staring at the Princess' older brother to really think about it.

Finally, after she couldn't take the silence any longer, the maid spoke up. "Where was he?"

The man turned to look at her, a frown on his features. "Come again?"

"Those bruises on his neck and wrists… those were old," Marceline commented. Her eyes were narrowed, as if she was accusing the other. "Where was he, before I found you in the dining hall with him? And why did he lose it when you mentioned the King?"

Bubba's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Hadn't she appeared only after Marshall Lee's reaction? So how had she known it had been about his father? "I will answer all of your questions to the best of my knowledge, Marceline, under one condition."

The woman made an annoyed face, gripping the arm rests of the chair she was seated in so tightly that her fingernails were digging into the fabric, nearly tearing it. "What's that, your _highness_?"

"You, in turn, explain to me what exactly went on in that room," The Prince replied, finally taking a seat across from her, his expression unreadable.

"…Fair enough," She stated after a moment, taking the time to cross her arms and lean back, before prompting, "Well? Where was he?"

Bonnibel must have thought it more beneficial to remain silent, because she leaned back and watched the two of them with an unreadable look upon her gentle features, her gaze drifting back and forth.

With a heavy breath, Bubba actually lowered his eyes, not caring at the moment that it was very unbecoming of a Prince to do so, especially when speaking to a servant. "From what I gather, he's spent the last eleven years in my father's closet." Marceline's eyebrows shot up, a mess of emotions gathering in her eyes. "It appears he was the King's prisoner. When I found him he was bound at the wrists and he cowered from me. He informed me that he did not know of his own age, but when I questioned my mother, she stated that he'd been in there for eleven years."

"Mother knew?" Bonnibel inquired softly, sounding a bit heart-broken.

"If your father weren't dead, I would murder him _myself_," The dark-haired maid hissed, not caring for the moment who heard her. "I gather he wasn't back there for fun and games, then?" She did not receive an answer, but then again she didn't really expect one. "Tell me more."

With another sigh, the Prince finally managed to lift his gaze. "I pulled him from the room and had Pepper and a team clean him up and treat his more recent wounds, before I brought him to the dining hall to feed him. He seemed… fearful, that my father would return and punish him for my actions. When I explained to him that he had passed days ago, he… well, turned into that _monster_."

"He's _not _a monster," Marceline explained, ignoring the confused look on Bonnibel's face. She hadn't been there to witness all that went on, after all. The maid's shoulders went stiff and she eyed her best friend for a moment, before turning her gaze away. "As I'm sure you've guessed by now, my brother and I aren't exactly… human."

The Princess' confused expression turned to one of shock, before twisting into a look of pain. She was conflicted; on one hand she was offended that her childhood friend had not told her such a deep secret, but on the other hand she realized that if Marceline had revealed this beforehand, it might have gotten out and the girl would have been beheaded.

Bubba's lips were straight, his eyes unreadable. After a few moments let out a slow breath and asked, "Then what are you?"

"We're not _demons_, if that's what you're thinking," The dark-haired woman defended coldly, her honey eyes narrowed. "We're _nymphs. _You know, spirits of the land? We just so happen to be underworld nymphs, which means we're often mistaken for demons."

"Nymphs…" Bonnibel mumbled, remembering the books she had read when she was younger on the creatures. The stories usually cold of creatures that roamed in the forests, keeping it alive, or in the ocean, caring for the fish… it did not speak of the underworld, however. "If you're underworld creatures, Marceline, why are you on the surface?"

The older girl seemed almost surprised by the question. Then she slowly frowned and glanced downward, shoulders tense. "We snuck out… well, no, I guess that's not quite true. I took Marshall and I ran when we were very young." The royal siblings leaned in, completely entranced by the story. "The underworld was… well, I'm sure you can imagine. And just because we weren't human didn't mean we weren't treated like it by the creatures there. Our parents were murdered before our eyes, slaughtered like cattle… so I took my brother and I found a way out."

It was obvious from her expression that she did not want to discuss the subject any further.

"All this time…" The Princess whispered, her face going soft. "And you've been something so magical, so fascinating…"

"It's not something to take so lightly," Bubba cut in, catching both of the women's attention. "At least a dozen guards witnessed Marshall's display and no doubt they'll assume he is a demon. I know that my medics will not let any harm befall him-" He held up a hand as Marceline tried to speak, silencing her instantly. "But when word of this gets around, it may leak out to the people and it will be difficult to convince them that he is _not _a demon."

"They'll cry for him to be beheaded," His sister whispered, sorrow in his voice.

The dark-haired maid growled and looked about ready to strike, though what they weren't sure. The strawberry-blonde haired man held up a hand once more and gave her a gentle, if not sad smile. "I will not let that happen to him, Marceline. You have my word."

Before any more could be said, the door suddenly came open and a large man with flaming red hair stepped in, pointing one thick finger in the pale woman's direction.

"Your highness, Prince Burton!" He shouted at a level far above what should have been appropriate. "I _demand _that this woman be executed!"

"W-What!?" Bonnibel shrieked, rising to her feet in time with her older brother, who looked dumbstruck.

"She spoke out of turn in front of her majesty, the Princess," He continued, copper eyes daring daggers into a very still and silent Marceline, whose own expression matched it. "And look at her, just now! She _dares _look at me with such distain! A slave like that needs to be put down!"

"Marceline is not a _slave_!" Bonnibel cried, looking between her brother and her best friend in panic.

"She wears the robes of a slave," The Fire King hissed, lowering his hand finally before turning to look at the Prince. "Unless you have that… that _ingrate _beheaded, the deal between our countries is off!"

Bubba's expression became one of shock and he turned to look at Marceline, who slowly stood up from her chair.

"Furthermore…" The king continued, copper eyes nearly aflame with rage. "I will wage war on this country!"

"What!?" Bonnibel cried, grasping at her chest, just above her heart, as it filled with shock and pain. It was so intense that she felt as if she couldn't breathe, her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

All this, over one little insult?! This man was insane!

"Your Majesty-" Bubba tried to reason, but was cut off as Marceline stepped forward.

"You don't have to worry about that, your _greatness_," She spat, before beginning to grin at his horrified look. "Because I won't be here to die!"

Her best friend let out a gasp of horror as Marceline's body began to twist and grow, taking on a large bat-like form similar to her brother's. The King let out a high-pitched shriek as she pushed him out of the way and took off down the hall.

"Marceline, no!" Bonnibel cried, her eyes filling with tears as she began to stumble after the other. "Please, don't do this!"

The maid didn't look back, swallowing down the pain that filled her heart as her loved one called for her.

This was for the best. There was no way the Princess would be able to choose between her country and her childhood friend without breaking her heart, so there was no other way but to disappear.

But she was taking Marshall with her.

The doctor looked extremely alarmed as she burst through the door into the medical wing, positioned over the unconscious young man, having apparently just stitched up the wound in his chest. Awarding herself for her good timing, the woman moved her long arms over and scooped his tiny form up, cradling him against her chest.

"No!" The doctor's nurse cried, her long brown hair pulled away from her face and a pair of large glasses covering her eyes. "If you take him now, he could die!"

"If I don't, he _will_," Marceline informed coldly, before she moved over to the large window and shoved an arm through the stained glass, breaking it carelessly. Her massive wings sprouted from her back and she pushed her way through the small opening, before taking off into the setting sun, Marshall held gently in her arms.

As Bonnibel came into the room, Bubba just behind her, the two medics stared numbly up at the broken window in a dumbstruck silence.

"Marceline…" The Princess whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

Quietly, the girl wondered to herself if she would ever see her best friend again.


	4. My Kingdom For Fortune

**Chapter 4**; My kingdom for… fortune

The ceiling was made of wood panels, hand crafted by the looks of it, but not in bad shape. It gave way to a what appeared to be a small, one-room cottage, with two beds, a dresser, a table, and a fireplace. The bed she was lying on had a thick, fur pelt covering it like a blanket and a thin cloth sheet beneath it.

On the other bed rested a dark-haired form, sweat glistening on his forehead and a look of pain on his unconscious face. A girl was seated at his bedside, wiping at his face with a wet cloth gently, a sad expression on her face. She had blonde hair that was pulled up into a white cap and soft blue eyes that turned to glance at the other bed.

"Oh!" She called, smiling warmly and placing the cloth back into a bowl in her lap. "You're awake."

Marceline sat up quickly, only to lay back down as her head began to spin. She tried desperately to remember what happened and vague images came to her, but nothing she could really make sense of.

"My brother found you and this boy in the forest," The girl explained, coming over to her bedside, a sad expression on her face. "He claims you fell from the sky, but he has a big imagination. You had several wounds that I've treated, but I'm afraid your friend has caught a fever. I've been trying my best to treat him."

That was right… as she'd flown from the palace, the guards had released arrows, hitting her in several places. She'd made is as far as the snow-covered mountains near the palace before losing consciousness.

Eyeing the girl nervously, Marceline slowly sat up and pulled herself from the bed, taking note of the stiff soreness in her limbs and the bandages wrapped around them. She was dressed in what looked to be light blue sleeping robes, no doubt belonging to the blonde, and had bandages wrapped around her center as well. Her long hair had been lazily braided, likely to keep it away from her wounds.

The blonde didn't move to stop her as she approached the other bed and took the now vacant seat, looking down at Marshall Lee with a sad expression.

"He's been mumbling in his sleep, but he has yet to awaken," The other girl informed, sadly. "You've been out for the night. It's midday, now. Oh, where are my manners!" Reaching up, she slapped a hand against her cheek, as if to snap herself out of a daydream. "My name is Fionna. Fionna Mertens. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The dark-haired woman turned to glance at her, as if sizing her up. She could definitely take this girl, if it came to it, so she supposed there was no harm in letting her know who she was. "I'm Marceline Abadeer." She motioned gently to the boy on the bed. "This is Marshall Lee, my little brother."

Fionna smiled widely, setting the bowl on a table by the bed. "I have a little brother, too. His name is Finn. Right now he's off hunting. Are you hungry? I've got a whole mess of raspberries that I just picked, they are plenty fresh."

"I appreciate the help, but we can't stay," Marceline explained as the other woman crossed over to what looked like a kitchen area.

The blonde turned to look at her in surprise. She quickly held up her hands and explained, "I won't stop you, of course… but personally, I think it would be wise to stay at least until his fever breaks. But I'm honestly not sure how long that will be, since his chest wound appears to be infected."

Alarmed, the dark-haired woman turned to her brother and pulled down the blankets, only to see a clean bandage across the boy's chest.

"I was going to have Finn watch over you while I go down to the nearest town and buy him some medicine," Fionna explained, taking a bowl from the counter and bringing it over, offering it to her guest. "It's quite a walk, however, so I may be gone some time."

"How far is it?" Marceline inquired, glancing down at the raspberries. They _did _look good. Slowly, she reached out and took one, lifting it to her lips.

The taste was _amazing_. She hadn't had fresh food since before she'd been captured and forced into slavery.

"Almost a day's walk, to and from," Fionna explained. She took a seat on the bed opposite Marshall's, a smile on her face that did not reach her eyes. "Our parents did not like the way King Leimon ruled, with slavery and greed… so they built this cabin high up in the mountains and we've lived here ever since."

The room's front door came open suddenly an a young boy stepped in, pulling his jacket's hood off to reveal a white cap, similar to his sister's, over a head of blonde hair. He seemed to realize what was going on and his eyes lit up in excitement.

"You're awake!" He cried, pulling the door closed after a large yellow dog had stepped in. "Jake, look! How cool, huh!?" The dog let out a loud bark, but the boy (Finn, she presumed) was already halfway across the room, rushing up to Marceline. "You're a nymph, right!?"

Instantly the girl's eyes narrowed and she stood up, standing in front of her brother, crouched in a defensive position.

"Woah!" Fionna cried, standing as well and moving to her own brother's side.

"I saw your bat form!" Finn continued, seeming unaware of the tension in the room. "It was exactly like dad described! Look!"

The two girls watched him stiffly as he moved over his bed and pulled a large book which was in terrible shape, with pages sticking out. On the cover was a skull with a sword and what looked like a batch of grapes, as well as a circle of gems. He flipped it open to a certain page and brought it over, holding it up for the girl to see.

Her eyes went wide and she relaxed, reaching out to take the object in her hands.

_Underworld Nymphs_, the page read. It had drawings of the various types of creatures she was able to sift into, as well as a long explanation about her kind. At the very end it read, _Do not mistake them for demons, for these Nymphs are very kind_.

"Perhaps I should explain," Fionna stated, drawing the dark-haired girl's eyes to her. "Our parents were adventurers. They wrote down everything they saw on their adventures in that book, which they called the Enchiridion."

"Our dad was very good friends with an Underworld Nymph in his youth!" Finn declared, grinning widely, revealing a few missing teeth. "He told us all about them! Oh man, you're so _cool_!"

"Finn, please, calm down," Fionna laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "She's just woken up, you don't want to overwhelm her."

As the girl steered her brother away, Marceline fell back into the chair beside her own sibling's bed.

They'd known what she was, but they still took her in without fear? They hadn't even questioned where her gashes had come from or why her brother had such a badly infected wound. Furthermore, they claimed that their father had known (past tense, she noted) a nymph like her…

Kind people. These were kind people.

The thought was foreign to her. She'd grown up partly in the underworld, where demons cruelly treated her family and slaughtered her parents. On the surface, they'd been homeless and the city folk would often throw rocks at them when they attempted to find food. Then they'd been captured by the king's men and well… the rest was history.

She lifted her eyes and watched as Finn spoke excitedly to his sister, petting his large yellow dog, while she held a spotted white cat and smiled, nodding every so often.

These two people, barely even teenagers, had shown her more kindness then nearly everyone she'd met in her life. And they didn't even know her.

"Marceline, right?" Finn called, catching her attention. "Fionna can go into town now and get that medicine. It will work, won't it? On your brother?"

"It should," She replied, remembering Bonnibel giving her medicine at one point when she'd come down with a fever. "I can give you a ride, though. It will go faster."

Fionna's eyebrows shot up. "I think a large bat would catch attention, though."

The dark-haired woman grinned widely. "That's not all I can turn into, remember?"

Bonnibel stared down at her lap, ignoring her mother as she paced back and forth in front of the door.

Her brother was in another room, trying to make things right with the flame kingdom's lord. She had tried for some time to care about the outcome, but it had given way to worry and left her heartbroken and numb.

Was Marceline alright? She'd seen the guards shooting arrows at the woman, but then she'd disappeared from view somewhere over in the mountains. Her brother had ceased their call for retrieval, but some of the capitol city's inhabitants had seen Marceline flying by and were banging down the castle doors, crying for protection.

Her brother was extremely overwhelmed, but her mother had refused to step in. He was to be king in only a few days, so he had to learn to deal with many things happening at once.

Eventually the door came open and she stood as Bubba entered, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Well?" Their mother prompted, worry evident on her aging features.

"We will not go to war," The Prince informed and instantly the two women let out sighs of relief. "However-" He began and the Princess could have sworn her mother looked ready to faint. "The wedding is off."

"What!?" The Queen cried, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "But-! That was going to boost our economy! The trading routes… the treaty!"

"I'm afraid there was nothing more I could do," Bubba informed her, rather sadly. "It was hard enough to get him to cease his claim of war. I had to explain to him that we had no power over Marceline's actions and I apologize, Bonnie, for some of the words he used to describe her." His sister gave a sad nod, inwardly not wanting to know what those words were. "He said that he would not let his son marry into a country that allows a _demon_," he spat the word like a bad taste. "Into their palace walls."

"But she wasn't a demon," Honey cut in and both of her children turned to look at her in shock. Slowly, the woman frowned. "But of course, you must have known that…"

"You knew what she was!?" Bonnibel snapped, approaching the woman with a furious expression. "All this time!?"

"Which means you knew what Marshall was, too," Bubba breathed, before his eyes went wide. "So when you told me that he wasn't just a normal boy…!"

She gave a heavy sigh and took a seat, motioning for her children to do the same. "When you two were very small," The woman began and they settled in for what appeared to be a long story, hoping that some of their questions would be answered. "A farmer came to your father and explained that he had seen two demons in his field only nights before. Demon wolves, he said, that were stealing his crops.

"Your father was a smart man, however… He realized that, if these were _really _demon wolves, they would have been hunting the cattle or sheep, not the crops. So whatever these were, they were something very different. So he set out with some men the next night and went to the farmer's land, trying to see if he could spot the creatures in question.

"They came again that night, but what he saw was not two demons… but two small children with extraordinary abilities. Somehow, they had the ability to shape themselves into creatures. He had two of his men follow the children while he returned to the castle to try and figure out exactly what they were.

"Your father set out in search of answers and came across a young researcher named Doctor Mertens. Mertens told your father that these children were Underworld Nymphs and that they were harmless... then he showed your father a book that changed everything."

Bonnibel let out a slow breath and looked toward her brother, whose expression was cold. If he was feeling the same as her, it was no doubt that the distain for their father had grown.

"In the book," Their mother went on, staring out the window at the cloudy sky. "It stated that to drink the blood of an underworld nymph would bring you great fortune. Mertens went on to explain that he'd done it only once, when he and his wife were unable to conceive a child due to her being wounded when she was younger, and that it had cured her. Your father became… very, _very _greedy, when he learned that.

"He had his men capture the children separately, so that they did not know the other one had been caught. He wanted nothing to do with the girl, so he had her sent with the other slaves, but the boy… well." She pulled her lips tight, her eyes narrowed. "He chained him in his room and told him that if he fought, his sister would be killed."

"Marceline…" Bonnibel gasped, lifting a hand to her mouth as her eyes began to fill with tears.

"The boy cooperated," The Queen informed, sadly. "And for eleven years your father drank his blood daily, showering him with fortune and favor. That is why, for the past eleven years, we have not had a declaration of war or even a single protest amongst the kingdom. But… Mertens failed to inform your father that if you drink too much at once, the blood of a Nymph becomes poisonous."

Bubba's eyes went wide and his sister's mouth fell open. "You mean father died… because…?"

"He died because of his greed and his greed alone," She informed. "No blame falls on that boy and I should hope you are kind enough to recognize that, Burton."

"Of course, mother," The Prince whispered, before he fell silent.

The three of them sat there quietly for some time, before the guards came to retrieve Bubba in order to deal with the frightened people of the kingdom.

* * *

Fionna let out one last excited yell before Marceline came to a stop and she slid off of her back. Cake, her ever-faithful companion, jumped off of the wolf's rear with a heavy huff, shaking the fallen snow from her fur and reaching one paw up to lick at it.

The dark-haired woman shifted herself back into her human form and grinned, before turning to glance through the trees at the village, only about fifty yards away.

"See?" She inquired with a smirk. "Much faster."

"And much more exciting!" The blonde-haired girl exclaimed, before sending a smile down to her companion. "Right, Cake?"

The cat gave another huff before she leapt up and gracefully landed atop Fionna's shoulders, wrapping her long body around the girl's neck like a scarf.

"I'll be here waiting for you," Marceline informed and her companion gave a short nod, before starting off for the village. She watched the other walk away for a few moments, then began to look around.

It was a tiny little city, so it was a wonder they even carried medicine at all. Most of the people were dressed in heavy furs, since they were still on the mountain and the snow clung to the city streets. Children were laughing and running around in a nearby field and a woman with redish brown hair was watching them with a smile on her face.

"You're friends with Fionna, right?"

Marceline jumped, her body going stiff as her eyes fell upon a olive-skinned man with dark hair. He looked at her in surprise from behind his round glasses, holding up his hands.

"My name is Simon!" He cried, trying to show that he meant no harm. "Simon Petrikov. I saw her ride up with you." Instantly the girl's brown eyes went wide, before she bared her fangs, her nails beginning to shape into claws. "Oh no, no! I'm not going to harm you!" The man slowly reached out a hand, palm up, a fearful smile on his face. "I was a friend of Fionna's father and also of his Nmyph friend, Hunson Abadeer. You don't need to fear me."

Marceline's defensiveness was gone in an instant, giving way to shock. "Hunson Abadeer? You knew Hunson Abadeer!?"

"Not as well as Fionna's father, but yes, I'd met him a few times," Simon informed in surprise, reaching up to fix his glasses.

"Hunson was my father!" The dark-haired woman explained, her mouth agape. "He never told me that he had human friends…!"

"I suspect living in the underworld, he wouldn't have wanted it to get around," Simon replied gently, a sad smile on his face. "You came here with Fionna, correct?" At the girl's nod, he continued. "May I ask why?"

"She came to get medicine," Marceline informed, not sure if she should reveal the whole story. There was no way this human man could have known her father's name, but she wasn't completely sure she could trust him.

"Oh my, then I'd better get back to my place!" He cried, reaching out to take Marceline's hand before starting toward the village. "Betty, dear! I'll be at the office!"

"Alright!" The redheaded woman called after him.

"I was just out gathering herbs to make more medicine," He explained to the dark-haired woman as he pulled her along, her shoulders tense. "We get some imported from the big city, but it's not enough to sustain us, especially with how sick we get from his weather. So I research and find other ways to cure illnesses. I've been treating Fionna and her brother for years."

A frown crossed the other's face and she lowered her eyes for just a moment. That was exactly what Bonnibel had wanted to do with her life, before she'd been swept up into the politics of being a Princess. Would she have been able to do it? Perhaps even by this man's side, they could have found cures for the unthinkable.

The two of them came up to an office with a sign outside that read, _Medic_. A few people around them stopped to look, only to smile when they saw that it was Simon. They did not even question Marceline's appearance.

Fionna was inside as they entered, looking a little bit lost. Her face lit up, however, when she saw the man. "Simon, there you are!" Surprise washed over the excitement after a moment when she spotted the dark-haired woman behind him. "Oh, Marceline!"

"Oh, so that's your name," Simon informed, coming around to a large cabinet stuffed full of glass vials. "We met while I was out gathering herbs. Marceline explained to me that you are looking for some medicine?"

"It's her brother," The blonde-haired girl explained, missing the sour look on her dark-haired companion's face. "He has an infected wound and he's all feverish."

"What kind of wound?" The man inquired, turning to look at them in surprise.

They both turned to look toward the older girl, who puffed up her cheeks in frustration for a moment. Then, slowly, she let out a breath. They would probably find out one way or another, so it was better to just come out with it. "He was stabbed through the shoulder with a royal guard's spear."

Simon's eyebrows immediately shot up and he turned toward a locked cabinet, reaching into his pocket and grabbing a key, before pulling it open. "That's quite serious," He explained. "The royal guards poison the tips of their spears so that their enemies do not get away. I've had this antidote for some time, but I've never before had to use it… You are very lucky that I even have it at all."

"Thank god for small miracles, then," Marceline replied with a deep frown as he began gathering up some things. She hadn't known about the poison tips… Would it have been better to leave Marshall at the palace? _No_, she decided with a quick shake of her head. _They would have killed him_.

"We'll take my carriage. I need to go up there with you," Simon informed as he finished packing his things in his bag. "This is very serious and we need to hurry."

With a quick nod, Fionna turned and left, the tall man on her heels. Marceline remained in her spot for a few moments, before seeming to snap out of her daze and following after them.

Marshall was still very much in danger… all she'd wanted was to keep her brother safe, but now there was a real chance that she would lose him.

* * *

"N-no… p-please…"

Finn lifted his eyes from the book in his lap, a frown on his features. The dark-haired boy on the bed was turning his head back and forth, a look of despair on his unconscious face.

"No more…" The other whispered, before his eyes came open halfway, his vision clouded.

"You okay?" The blonde haired boy inquired, moving over to the chair his sister had put beside the bed. "Hey, man… it's alright. You're safe."

"Huh…?" The other inquired. Marshall Lee, that's what Fionna had said his name was. "W-w…"

"My name's Finn," The blonde explained, reaching out to put a hand on top of Jake's head as the large dog climbed onto the bed, beside the sickly boy. "And this is Jake. We're protecting you, man! No one's gonna get you."

The boy's hazy eyes were a very bright blue and they almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. It was obvious just by looking in them that he didn't really see Finn, however, as he stared off into the distance.

Still, the boy kept trying. "Your sister went with mine to get you some medicine. It'll probably taste bad, but it will make you feel better, okay? So you gotta take it and stuff. Oh! I think it's really cool, what you are. Don't worry, Fionna and I are down with that whole nymph thing. I've even got a book on you! See!" He held up the large book, a grin on his face. "Says right here that you're kind and stuff."

Marshall Lee's eyes shifted toward Jake, who rested his large head on the boy's upper leg. One shaky hand slowly reached out and touched the yellow fur and for a moment, it seemed like the dark-haired boy knew what was going on.

Then his eyes rolled back and he lost consciousness again.

Frowning, Finn turned to look at Jake and noticed that the dark-haired boy's hand was still resting on the dog's head.

"We gotta protect him, boy," He told the canine, softly. The response was a sigh, which the blonde could have sworn sounded sad.

* * *

"It's simply disgusting," The flame kingdom's lord stated as he climbed into his carriage and settled in for a long ride. "Letting a demon into their palace… and then claiming not to know. I knew that girl was wrong from the first time I saw her."

He turned, pulling one red silken curtain back to look across the land, over at a mountain piled high with snow. He'd seen the demon fly off that direction and then drop, no doubt she was somewhere within the forest.

"If they won't bother hunting her," He hissed, copper eyes aflame with rage. "Then I will."

Silently, the young man across from him narrowed his own golden eyes and prepared himself for the long journey to come.


	5. My Kingdom for a spark of recognition

**Chapter 5; My Kingdom For… a spark of recognition**

Blue eyes lifted in surprise as the front door came open and an older gentlemen stepped in, a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Simon!" Finn cried with a grin, alerting Jake from his half-asleep state. The dog lifted his head and Marshall's hand fell from it, causing the dark-haired nymph to stir.

"Hello, Finn," Simon greeted with a smile as Marceline and Fionna stepped inside, pulling the door shut after Cake had joined them. The man approached, pushing his glasses up his nose and taking a seat as the young boy stood and offered it to him. "This must be Marshall Lee. My, my…" His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he pulled the blankets back a bit and took note of the display of cuts and bruises. "These all look rather old…"

Marceline remained silent, her lips tight.

The man seemed to understand and didn't push it, gently sitting Marshall up to unwrap the bandages so he could see how badly the poison had spread.

The young man let out a soft cry of panic, his light eyes drifting open but not really seeing.

"Marshall," His sister called, reaching over and taking his hand gently in hers. His gaze drifted to her and his eyebrows knit together, almost like he recognized her voice. "It's me, Marceline."

"M…" The boy tried and Simon gently laid him back down, having removed the bandages.

"You're safe," She informed as she used her free hand to brush sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "No one is going to hurt you again."

Jake jumped back onto the bed and rested his head against Marshall's leg once more, which seemed to calm the pale boy. The tension left his body and he gazed up at Simon with a dazed expression as the man frowned down at him.

"Not a moment too soon," The dark-haired man stated as he reached into his bag and removed a vial with liquid inside of it. They watched as he took a leaf from a small box and poured some of the concoction onto it, before using the greenery like a bandage, placing it on top of the wound. "The leaf is from the rare firebird rose, which only grows in the flame kingdom. It is part of the potion and it helps to speed up the healing process, quite literally _burning _away the infection."

Marceline frowned, her hold on her brother's hand weakening. Because of her, communication with the flame kingdom would be scarce, now… how many people would die because they couldn't get that plant?

She tried not to let herself think about it as Marshall let out a pained hiss and reached for his chest. Fionna moved to grab his wrists only to gasp as she saw the bruises and scars on them. How had she missed those before, when she'd addressed his wounds the first time?

"Marceline…" The girl mumbled, heartbreak evident in her voice. Ignoring her for the moment, the dark-haired woman held her younger brother's arms back as he tried to pull the antidote off of his body.

"It hurts now, but that means that it's working," Simon explained as he reached into his bag once more and removed a vial with what looked like spices inside of it. "If all goes well, the poison and any infection that comes with it should be cleared up by tomorrow evening." He removed the top of the spice-bottle and held it under the dark-haired boy's nose. With one intake of breath, Marshall was out. At Marceline's concerned face, he quickly told her, "This just helps him sleep."

They watched as the man returned his objects to his bag and motioned to Finn, who crossed the room and filled a bowl with water. The boy then came back with a rag and handed it to Marceline as Simon offered her his seat.

"Your bother will live, Marceline," He informed with a gentle smile, placing an almost fatherly hand on top of her head as she looked up at him with wonder.

"Thank you," The woman mumbled. She then turned and began to dab at the sleeping young man's forehead with the cool cloth, not paying attention as Simon motioned for Fionna and stepped outside into the cold.

"Thank you again for helping, Simon," the blonde thanked with a gentle smile as she pulled the door shut, turning to him. "We had no idea that it was so serious."

"Fionna," He sighed and her expression instantly dulled to a solemn one. "I'm sure you've come to the conclusion that I have."

Slowly, the girl nodded. There was really no mistaking it, after all…Marceline's sudden arrival, her brother's beaten appearance, on top of the poison-tipped spear that could have only come from the palace guards…

At least one, if not both of them were escaped slaves from the castle. And from the state Marshall was in, there was no doubt that whoever had held him captive knew what he was and had reaped the benefits of his blood.

Would they be looking for him? They were fools to let him escape in the first place, so there was no doubt that they wouldn't let it happen again.

"I told Marceline she could stay," Fionna informed calmly, her eyes showing no room for debate. "And I don't intend to take it back."

Slowly, Simon nodded, before reaching out to place a gentle hand on top of her head, just as he had with Marceline. "Then just know that I will be praying for your safety, as well as theirs."

They parted ways and the blonde-haired girl returned to her brother and guests, before she began to prepare a meal they could all enjoy together.

* * *

"She fell here. Then something picked her up and pulled her through the snow… this direction."

The men around him gave nods, before following his orders to pan out in the direction he'd pointed. As the last of them disappeared, he turned and started in the opposite way, following the actual trail.

He didn't need men to help him find this creature and it was ridiculous that his father had sent them with him. He had more experience hunting and tracking then the lot of them combined, as well as extra skills that they couldn't even fathom having.

Making a sour expression, Aiden pushed a lock of ginger hair away from his freckled cheeks and golden eyes, before he pulled his charcoal-colored hood up over his head.

He didn't quite believe his father's tale about all that had gone on in the castle two days ago. Princess Bonnibel had not seemed the type to simply disregard him, even if she had always had that maid with her. And a tale of some girl turning into a giant bat… if he hadn't seen a large creature flying from the palace with his own eyes, he would have dismissed the man as crazy.

Still, there was no point in going this far to hunt for the girl. If she had escaped, he doubted she was going to come to the flame kingdom, yet the man had kept insisting and so he'd finally given in.

Crouching down, he spotted a smear of red beneath a freshly fallen layer of snow. She hadn't tried hard to cover her tracks and she was obviously wounded, so he doubted she had gone far. It was possible she had taken refuge in a cave nearby, or perhaps even a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom.

A flash of blue caught his attention seconds before an arrow flew inches from his face, lodging into a tree beside him.

The fire prince flew toward his attacker, slamming heavily into their body and pinning them toward the ground. A shabby wooden bow fell beside the two of them and he pulled a fist back, his free hand pulling the hood from the other's features.

A surprised, round face gazed up at him, blue eyes wide. She was young, maybe seventeen, with blonde hair and a white cap over top of blonde hair. From the shocked expression, she had no doubt thought he was some sort of animal and moments later she confirmed that fact, crying, "Oh god, I didn't realize you were-! I thought you were a _bear_, dude! Jeeze!"

Tightening his lips, Aiden rolled off of her and stood, dusting the snow from his jacket in disgust. She climbed to her feet and retrieved her bow, slinging it back over her shoulder.

"Man, we're finding all sorts of people in these woods lately," She mumbled and he showed no sign of having heard her, while inwardly making note of her comment.

Had this girl found the demon? Perhaps she'd even taken it somewhere to get treated. If he played his cards right, it was possible the creature would be dropped right into his lap.

"What are you doing way out here?" The blonde inquired, eyeing him warily. Thankfully, he had chosen to remove any items that identified him as the crowned Prince of the flame kingdom before setting out on this little adventure. "These woods are dangerous."

"I'm traveling," The ginger-haired young man informed simply. It could have meant a wide variety of things… it was possible he was traveling through the mountain to go to the flame kingdom, to come from it, or any number of stops along the way.

"Jeeze, you look like you haven't eaten in weeks!" She proclaimed, reaching forward and patting his hips with thick gloved fingers. "Come on, I'll take you back to my place and get you some food for the trip."

Inwardly, Aiden wondered what she meant by he looked like he hadn't eaten. He was a perfectly healthy size for his body type, not to mention full of muscle. He supposed, however, that packing on a few extra pounds would be smart for this type of weather, which accounted for the girl's slightly curvier body type (at least, from what he could tell under her heavy blue jacket).

She unknowingly lead him toward her home, where he could at the very least either follow the demon's trail or question her about its appearance. As they walked, the blonde introduced herself as Fionna and he, in turn, simply stated that his name was Aiden.

Best not to let her know who he was, in case she knew that the creature was being followed.

* * *

The first thing he was aware of was the feeling of soft fur beneath his fingertips.

It was very hot in there and a heavy blanket was lying across his body, almost suffocating him. His breath was labored and strained, his chest constricted.

Oh, right. He'd been stabbed.

The pain came then and a groan left his lips, alerting whoever was in the room with him.

Suddenly a form was grabbing his hand (the one not touching the soft fur) and a voice was calling to him, just out of his line of focus.

"…-_shall? …-rshall? …-all? Marshall? Marshall! _Marshall!"

With a deep intake of air, the young man forced his blue eyes open and tried hard to concentrate on the form before him.

After a few moments his vision began to clear and he found himself looking into the face of a young woman, maybe two or so years older than himself. She had long, dark hair, pulled into a lazy braid, and honey brown eyes. She was dressed in a heavy dark red coat with silver fur trim around the hood and a pair of leather gloves.

The most important thing about her, however, was how familiar she looked.

Now, having spent eleven years locked in the back of a closet, Marshall Lee did not know very many people. In fact, he had perhaps met a total of ten people in his life and that was really stretching it. So the fact that this girl looked so familiar, combined with her hair and eye color, meant only one thing.

"Mar…celine?" He called, only to frown. His own voice sounded foreign in his ears. Muted, almost, like he was weak or had fallen ill for some time.

A smile crossed the woman's face and she reached out with both hands, cupping his cheeks. "Oh, thank god," She whispered, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I was worried you weren't going to make it."

A wave of ache crossed his body once more and Marshall was suddenly aware of his surroundings. With a hiss of pain, he attempted to sit up, taking note of the chill in the air, the wooden walls that surrounded him, and the heavy fur pelt that acted as a blanket over his nearly naked body.

What had happened? Oh, right… the Prince had pulled him from his cage and treated him like some sort of dinner guest, before he'd revealed that the king was dead. He'd panicked, then, worried that somehow the boy _knew_, and he'd tried to run. Then the guards had stabbed him and the rest was a blur.

Eventually, the young man realized that the soft fur beneath his hand was not in fact the blanket covering him, but instead the head of a massive yellow dog that lay at his side, watching him with large brown eyes.

Slowly, his mind began to clear and the realization set in. But instead of worrying about having run away from captivity, instead he took in the most important fact.

"Marceline!"

His sister gasped as he suddenly flew into her open arms, before she let out a sob and wrapped him in her hold tightly, her fingers digging into his dark hair.

_Safe_! She was safe! All these years and here she was, unharmed… He'd lived everyday thinking he would never see her again, but now she was in his arms and he didn't want to ever let her go.

"It's okay now, you're safe," The dark-haired woman informed, holding her younger brother as close as possible. His forehead, which was pressed against her neck, was still hot with fever, but it was much lower than it had been. He'd slept through another night with Fionna forcing her home-made broth down his throat, but as the next day crawled on her hope had slowly started to die.

But here he was, awake and in her grasp, clinging to her in return. She couldn't stop the tears as they poured down her cheeks, dripping into his messy hair.

Finn was just starting to back out of the cabin when the door came open and Fionna stepped through, talking a mile a minute. "The fur on this is made of polar bear, but we don't catch many of those around here oft-"

It happened so suddenly that she wasn't quite sure how to react. One moment she was hugging her brother, the next a lanky boy with a head of flaming ginger hair was grabbing a fistful of her braid and yanking her backwards. Her legs tangled in the chair and she tried desperately to roll away from him, but his grip in her hair was tight and he yanked again, sending her crashing to the ground.

The wind was knocked from her lungs and she let out a loud gasp as his bony knees were pressed into her wrists and a short dagger was pressed against her throat.

"M-Marceline!" Fionna cried in confusion. Her bow was in her hands moments later, an arrow notched, and Finn was gripping his sword with his teeth bared.

The moment of shock wore off after a few seconds and Marceline's dazed expression gave way to one of pure hatred. "_Aiden_," She sneered and he gave a soft snort, his golden eyes narrowed in just as much distain. "I suppose your _father _sent you?"

"W-what's going on?" Fionna whispered, the guilt evident in her voice.

"Fionna, meet Aiden, crowned Prince of the Flame Kingdom," The dark-haired woman spat at the boy's face and he sneered at her in response. "His father is the one that was hunting me."

"Oh god, what have I done?" The blonde-haired girl wheezed, before she stiffened and pointed her arrow at the ginger haired boy's head, her hands shaking. "Release her this instant!"

"Or what, you'll shoot me? You'll be killed for treason," The Prince snorted, turning to glare up at her intensely.

"I'd do anything to protect my friends," She snapped in reply. "I mean it, release her! Or dying will be the least of your worries!"

Before any more could be said, however, someone grabbed a fistful of Aiden's flaming hair and threw him across the room, onto the bed where Marshall had once been.

"How do you like it!?" The dark-haired young man snapped, gripping at his shoulder with one hand while he stared intensely at the surprised young Prince.

The ginger stared for a few moments before he growled and leapt from the bed in one smooth motion, tackling Marshall onto the opposite mattress. "How dare you touch me, _slave_!"

"Go to hell!" The other boy sneered before he curled his lips back and let out a high-pitched hiss, his eyes darkening and his irises turning a deep, blood red.

Aiden gasped in surprise and jerked back, before he bared his own teeth in a deep growl. "Another demon!"

"They're not demons!" Finn cut in, rushing forward with Jake at his side. The large dog leapt onto the bed and pushed his way between the Prince and Marshall, knocking the red-head off the bed. Aiden stumbled back a few steps as the blonde-haired boy moved in his pathway, his sword at the read. "They're nymphs!" He continued, blue eyes intense with loyalty. "And they wouldn't hurt anyone! They just wanted to be free, is that so hard to fathom!?"

Surprisingly, the Prince's tense body relaxed and a look of shock crossed his face. "Nymphs?" He repeated, lowering his dagger. "You're nymphs?"

"We are," Marceline confirmed as she rose to her feet, her body tense. She took a defensive position as she began to inch toward Finn, intent on protecting Marshall. She could see by his stained bandages that his wound had opened back up. "And as he said, we only wanted our freedom. Your father was trying to have me beheaded and I had just learned of my brother's imprisonment. All I wanted was to escape."

"He said that you disrespected him," Aiden informed, a conflicted look on his face.

"Well, he's kind of an ass," She replied with a shrug.

"Please," Fionna cut in, her bow still at the ready, though her eyes were pleading. She wasn't entirely sure just what had gone on inside of the castle walls, but it wasn't the time for questions. "Just let them go. Tell your father she's dead or something. I'm begging you!"

The Prince's golden eyes lowered and he held up his hands, staring down at his dagger with a frown. Nmyphs… his mother had taught him from a young age that such creatures were to be respected and often times worshiped. They were responsible for the land, for the flourishing crops and crystal clear waters. He imagined she would weep in heaven if she had to see one slaughtered at her father's command.

Before he could think further, however, they heard the sound of thundering footsteps approaching the cabin. Fionna turned and glanced out one of the windows, a hiss leaving her lips. "Flame kingdom guards…"

"They followed me here," Aiden whispered, returning his dagger to its place at his hip. "They're not going to believe that I came all this way if you're dead. And they'll try to take your brother, too."

"We'll fight them, then!" Finn declared, clenching his sword a little tighter and turning to leave. Fionna grabbed his arm quickly and frowned down at him, shaking her head. "What!?" The boy cried. "We can't just let them take Marceline, we need to protect her!"

"No," The dark-haired woman cut in, catching their attention. "You need to protect Marshall."

"Marceline?" Fionna questioned, a deep frown crossing her features.

"Like he said…" The other girl whispered, defeat obvious in her voice. "They won't believe I'm dead and if they realize he's here, they'll take him too… there's only one solution."

"No!" Marshall cried, trying to push Jake off of him so that he could sit up. "Marcy, please-!"

"I'll go with you, Prince Aiden," Marceline sighed, slowly reaching her hand out toward him.

The man seemed extremely torn and almost defeated, like he wanted it about as much as she did. He slowly nodded, however, and took her wrist instead of her hand, moving to pull her toward the door. "Make it look real."

"Marcy, _no_!" The girl's pale brother cried, finally managing to push Jake off and forcing himself off of the bed. "I only just got you back, you can't leave!"

"Fionna, stop him," The dark-haired woman begged and the blonde swallowed down a sob, moving to block Marshall. He tried to fight against her but the pain in his body and his fever both made him weak against her strong hold.

"Marcy!" He sobbed, tears streaking down his flushed face. "Please!"

Without another word, Marceline turned toward Aiden and gave him a numb nod. He responded with a nod of his own and moved to push open the door, dramatically dragging her from the cabin. She made a show of trying to fight him as her brother cried out for her, trying to break free of Fionna's hold.

"Good job, your Highness," One of the guards awarded with an annoyed expression, obviously not liking that the Prince had gone off on his own. He gave Marceline a look of disgust and removed a pair of shackles from inside his shoulder bag, slapping them on her. "Now, let's return to your father and get out of this blasted cold."

As they began to walk away, dragging the nymph with them, Aiden spared a glance back to the cabin and looked into the sad eyes of Fionna as she stood in the doorway, before slowly pushing it shut.


	6. IMPORTANT NOTE

**Important note:**

I have abandoned my account!

I will no longer update it with my fanfiction.

This story is finished and posted on my AO3 account, along with an array of other gumlee stories.

You can find the link there on my profile!

Thanks!


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